


Those Days are Gone Forever

by an_ardent_rain



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_ardent_rain/pseuds/an_ardent_rain
Summary: She wants, she thinks as she looks at him, for things to stay the same.  But if something happens now, everything is going to different.  While on vacation together with friends, the tension between Ginny and Mike finally breaks.





	Those Days are Gone Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cuits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuits/gifts).



> Title taken from "Boys of Summer," the only baseball song I think I know! 
> 
> This takes place after episode 10, though obviously I am ignoring most, uh, everything to write just a happy, almost-getting-together fic.

“So.” Ginny doesn’t look over as Mike takes a seat beside her, two beers in his hand, necks between his fingers. He groans a little as he settles back into his chair, the back of his neck a bright pink from an early afternoon spent in the sun. “Ready for a rematch?”

He hands her a beer and she can’t stop herself from grinning, looking over as his eyes fall shut and his head tips back. He takes a long drink and then says “No. No I am not.”

Ginny laughs. “What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning closer. She reaches over to nudge him with her elbow, laughing again as he groans. “Old man can’t handle it?”

Mike grabs the old hat he’d stuffed into his bag, sitting crumpled on the other side of his chair. He pulls it down so the brim shades his eyes, and slumps further down in his chair, until his biceps are practically resting on the armrests. “That’s right,” he says, glancing over at Ginny. There’s sand in his beard and his face is sun darkened, a dusky tan in a band across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. “The old man can’t handle it. Volleyball is, uh.” He takes another long drink of his beer, and Ginny watches the smooth movement of his throat as he swallows. “Volleyball is a dumb sport. Okay, Baker? It’s dumb, and I don’t want to play it. I’ll leave it to you and Blip.” He gestures out towards the edge of the water, where Blip and Evelyn and their kids were playing in the sand, building something that looked passably like a castle. “And the kids.” He grins, all teeth. “There’s no room out there for a slow…” He sighs. “Tired…” He sighs again. “Worn out old guy like me.” Ginny rolls her eyes but Mike only shakes his head, looking nothing but woeful, one side of his mouth twitching as he tries not to smile. They sit for a few minutes in comfortable silence, watching the Sanders family and the push and pull of the ocean, a soft, warm breeze blowing gently past. Mike finishes off his beer and smacks his lips together, looking down at the empty bottle. “Think I’m going to need another beer.”

Ginny hops up out of her chair and stretches her arms above her head, letting her toes curl in the sand. “I’ll get it,” she says. “Wanted to run up to the house anyway.”

“Hey, Baker, I’m not gonna stop you.” She pulls on a filmy blue cover-up, slipping her arms through the wide sleeves. The fringe at the bottom hits her mid-thigh and Mike’s eyes flick down toward the tassels against the bare expanse of skin. She tries not to notice, but it makes her shift a little and she pulls the fabric together across her body.

“Okay,” she says. “Be back in a second.”

“Hey,” he calls after her, as she turns towards their rented beach house. “We’ll need more than just one. Bring down another cooler!”

“Sure Lawson,” she yells over her shoulder, “Whatever you say.”

She quickens her pace and jogs up the hot sand. Once she gets to the house, she rinses off her feet at the outdoor shower, then slips on a pair of the cheap, foam flip flops waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She walks up the stairs but stops at the door, standing on the wooden balcony and looking out over the beach. They’d rented a house with a private beach so there’s nobody else around. The day is beautiful - perfect, almost, with a bright, hot sun and a clear sky in a shade of sparkling blue. Things are… good, Ginny thinks. Good. As used to her routine as she’s gotten, it’s still hard to believe that this is her life. That she’s accomplished so much, made it so far. She sighs and crosses her arms on top of the railing, leaning out and letting the wind blow warm across her face. 

Things haven’t been perfect. She’s pitching again, just as strong as she was before, but it took a lot of physical therapy and she still has to be careful. And things are still strained between Mike and Blip, though she and Evelyn both hope this vacation will put to rest the remaining tension. 

She doesn’t quite know about what she’s going to do about Mike and herself, though. That’s a whole different kind of tension. 

It’s hard to forget that almost kiss, right before he found out the trade was cancelled. And it’s hard - it’s been so damn hard - not to want to try again. They’ve never talked about it, not really, but she’s sure he feels the same way she does: they want what’s best for the team, and that means keeping their feelings to themselves, not indulging in anything… indulgent. She has to stay professional.

Not that it’s been easy.

He’s always been flirtatious, even sometimes to her, but lately it’s been overt. And he’ll smile sometimes, secret and quick, his eyes going soft as his gaze falls over her. It leaves her shivery and warm, and nine times out of ten ends the conversation flat. It’s easy enough to ignore whatever’s simmering between them when they’re working, when they need to focus on playing ball. It’s the most important thing to both of them, and that weird, electric tension that can make casual, social interaction so difficult actually helps them on the field, pitcher and catcher working as a well-oiled machine, in perfect sync. 

That chemistry in their off hours, though, was suffocating. It was strong and sexy and suffocating - and how long was Ginny supposed to ignore it? If she didn’t act on it, wasn’t it supposed to go away? She’d maintained professional distance - like she was supposed to, like a good teammate - so wasn’t it supposed to get easier? Instead of fading, or of turning into something platonic, it had only taken on a sense of inevitability. The more time she spends with Mike, on the field or off, the more she wants him. And the more she was convinced he wants her just as much.

Staring out towards the ocean, she loses track of time. Instead of grabbing the beers and bringing them down, she stays there on the balcony, the sun warm on her skin. 

“Hey.”

She looks up and sees Mike coming up the stairs. “Mike,” she says, surprised. She pushes a stray curl off her face and gives him a quick smile.

“Stuck up here or something, Baker?” He takes the last few stairs and walks up towards her. “What happened, you get a little thirsty?”

She turns so her back is against the wooden railing and rolls her eyes. “The beer’s still in the fridge,” she says, leaning back and resting her elbows on the rail. “You need to get some patience.”

“Well it’s hot, and I’m thirsty.” He pulls open the sliding glass door.

“Not sure beer will help with that,” she says, loud, as he steps in and pulls the door shut behind him.

It’s even harder now to keep her feelings tamped down, when he’s relaxed and easy on vacation, so far away from anything to remind her of their responsibilities to the team. And add to that the look of him in his bathing suit with nothing else on, water dripping off him. Pale and hairy isn’t really her thing, even if Mike is only sort of both, but there’s something about him that makes everything seem attractive. The breadth of his shoulders, or the thick muscle of his thighs. Or even just sometimes the way he looked at her. She hadn’t brought anything really sexy, and her suit wasn’t even revealing, just a basic one piece, even if it was high cut in the leg, without a lot of cover on her back. With his eyes on her, though, she’d hardly ever felt sexier.

After a few minutes, Mike comes back outside carrying a small cooler filled with more bottles of beer. “You want one?” He asks, sliding the door shut behind him. “You left your down by the umbrella.”

“No thanks,” Ginny says. She rubs her hands up and down her arms, the sleeves flapping gently in the breeze. “I’m good.”

Mike shrugs and says “Suit yourself.” He takes a step towards the stairs but stops short and takes a long look at her. “You staying up here?” he asks. “Everyone’s going to be down at the beach for another couple of hours, probably. You could play another game of volleyball. I can’t join you - old man, right? - but I’m told I make a damn fine cheerleader.”

Ginny grins at him and says “You’re missing the skirt.”

“Hey,” he says, feigning indignance, “I’ll have you know that it’s… at the cleaners now, okay? Otherwise believe me, I’d whip it out in a second.”

“I’m sure you would.”

“It’s a very flattering cut.”

“Right.”

“Blip can hardly contain himself when he sees it, I am dangerously attractive.”

Ginny laughs out loud, mouth splitting wide in a smile. “And that’s different from normal?”

“Hey,” he says, setting the cooler down and leaning against the rail beside her, “Normally I am clearly the pinnacle of masculine beauty, but in my… what the hell was it, cheerleading skirt? Yes, my cheerleading skirt, I am completely out of this world gorgeous.” She shakes her head and giggles with one hand pressed to her mouth and Mike says “I’m dead serious, Baker, I am stunning. It’s unreal. You would not be able to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Well thank goodness it’s not here, then, so that I’m able to control myself.”

He sighs and looks up, a wistful expression on his face. “It has to be hard, I know.”

“Hey.” She knocks him on the shoulder. “I do have standards you know.”

“Oh, ouch!” He grabs his chest like he’s been wounded. “That was a low blow, I don’t know if my fragile ego can take it. Standards.” He shakes his head and gently nudges her back with his elbow. “That one hurt.”

Ginny smiles and looks down at her feet. He’s so close, and so warm, and that easy, flirty friendship is still blossoming into something more. If she tried it, he’d let her kiss him, she’s sure. Even though they both know it’s a bad idea. Even if on vacation with their friends isn’t the best place to start anything. Even if she’s not sure she could stop at just one kiss. 

“Suck it up,” she says, light, still not looking at him. She smirks to herself. “Almost past your prime, old man. Gotta face it eventually.”

“Hey I’m still… Before my expiration date. I’m a better vintage. Grade A.”

“And so modest, too,” Ginny says under her breath.

Mike laughs, big and full, and she glances up at him. He’s smiling so broadly, so bright, it catches her and for a moment she can’t look away. His eyes meet hers and his smile turns, growing warmer and a little smaller but a little more intense.

He’s so close, she thinks again, she can’t help but notice, his arm right next to hers. His body right next to hers, sun soaked and sand scoured, his limbs bare and his eyes so bright. He has his shirt back on now and the sleeves are tight across his biceps, the collar stretched out so she can still see some of his clavicle, see the first growth of dark hair that she knows runs down his chest.

“Hey,” she says, licking her lips, still looking up at him. “Maybe I will have that beer after all.”

“Sure,” he says. His voice is quiet and even though neither has said anything, suddenly the air is charged. It’s normally when she would walk away, when she would put up a wall, but suddenly it’s hard to remember why just jumping his bones is a bad idea. He grabs a bottle from the cooler at his feet. He grabs the cap with the edge of his shirt and unscrews it. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He’s looking at her, expectant, though she’s not sure why. She blinks and watches his eyes darken as she takes the beer from him, her fingers brushing against his. She licks her lips and slowly raises the bottle and takes a drink. His eyes are on her mouth, she’s sure of it, can practically feel his stare, with the heat of a physical thing.

What does he want, she wonders. And what would he do if she asks for what she wants. She lowers her drink and lets out a long, shaky breath. 

There’s still sand, stuck to his cheek, stuck in his beard. It would be rough against her, scratchy if she kissed him.

“Are you… still going to head back down?” she asks him, and her voice is quiet. She doesn’t mean to be that quiet, not really, but then she’s not asking what she really wants to. Her eyes trace his lips and she’s thirsty again. She takes another sip of beer. But it isn’t satisfying.

“I don’t know,” he says, after a brief, quiet moment of hesitation. “I think it’s cooler inside.”

She nods. “Dry.”

“Yeah. Comfortable.”

“True,” she says, nodding as he shifts closer. He’s practically chest to chest with her now. “There’s… no sand.”

“No sand,” he agrees. He cups her elbow with one big hand and she draws even closer. There is still time, she thinks, when she can break away, when she can stop this before it goes any further.

Or she can grab him by the neck and pull his mouth to hers, push their hips together and feel his arms as they wind around her. He’d kiss her, she knows he would, knows without any doubt that he’s waiting for something in the moment to break, just like she is. Her bed is so close, she thinks, just inside. She wants to jump up, wrap her legs around him, feel his hands cup her ass as he carries her inside. She wants to tear his clothes off, let him peel the bathing suit off her body.

She wants, she thinks as she looks at him, for things to stay the same. But if something happens now, everything is going to different.

“Ginny,” he says, voice nearly a whisper, his breath fanning over her as he speaks. His eyes are dark, brows drawn, and his lips are parted as he stares, as his gaze bores into hers and one hand gently touches her waist. It sounds like a warning, she thinks.

But caution can go right to hell.

“Shut up,” she says. And she kisses him, her lips hot and demanding against his, her tongue slick and sure along the contour of his mouth. “Shut up,” she says again once she pulls away, her breathing heavy. “Just… shut up and let me - “

 

He kisses her this time, their bodies tight together. The bottle she’s holding falls out of her hand and spills over the balcony. He kicks it away and together they move toward the door. He pulls it open so hard the glass rattles, but neither stops. The sun is hot, sinking in the sky as the afternoon wanes, and the waves rush greedily to the shore.

Neither of them notice.

Mike groans as she touches his cheek with one hand, the other hooking through the belt loop of his shorts. He nips at her bottom lip, turning them and pulling her into the house. The air is warm, with the smell of the sea on the breeze that whips gently through the sand.

Neither of them looks back. They shut the door.


End file.
